


just tell me what you want me to

by SkyRose



Category: Men in Black (Movies)
Genre: Banter, Casual Sex, Drunk Sex, Lust at First Sight, M/M, Pre-Canon, Uniform Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 14:38:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19378729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyRose/pseuds/SkyRose
Summary: C hated the new recruit.





	just tell me what you want me to

**Author's Note:**

> More C/H! Yay!
> 
> This is for "uniform kink" on my season of kink card as well as my free space on my trope bingo card. I choose to do the trope "drunk fic".

C hated the new recruit. Really, T has outdone himself with this guy. Men in Black were supposed to be clean cut, plain, and completely unremarkable. This guy was shabby, ripped jeans and sneakers that had seen better days. His doofy face was _not_ plain. He was wearing a loose tank that showed off — well, arms that could never be called unremarkable.

“You’re not a Paberian,” T said with a relaxed, amused smile on his face. He was stood next to C, as the watched the new recruit chatted with a tall, feline-like woman.

“What?” C asked, not bothering to look at T. His eyes were fixed on the recruit’s stupid, conspicuous arms. He doubted there was a neurolyzer that could remove such a sight from female witnesses. Or certain male witnesses. 

“Paberian’s have laser eyes,” T informed. “And you’re currently trying to burn holes in my new partner with your glare alone.”

C’s glare hardened at the word _partner._ He thought he made it clear to C that _he_ wanted to be his partner when Agent B retired. Apparently, T thought this blond hunk of muscle with three brain cells was a better fit for him.

“You really can’t be serious, T,” C sighed as the blond recruit tripped over a loose tentacle of an innocent citizen. “You’ll need to babysit him for _weeks_ before he’s fit for a case.”

T’s smile didn’t cease. “Henry!” he called to his new partner before turning back to C. “I think you’ll be surprised. He’s a quick learner and very eager to try new things. Not everyone here can be a stick in the mud.”

C bit his tongue to refrain from saying something he’d regret. The recruit — _Henry, apparently_ — made his way to where T and C stood.

“So, when do I get a fancy suit?” Henry asked T, his blue eyes briefly trailing up and down C. “Who’s this?”

“You’ll get a suit in a bit. First, I’d like to introduce you to Agent C,” T said, gesturing to C next to him. Henry stuck out a hand. C shook it, grasping his hand harshly only to get a stronger grip back. 

“Nice to meet you. I assume I’ll be seeing a lot of you?” Henry stated, one of his eyebrows quirking up.

“Hopefully not,” C deadpanned, meeting Henry's bright eyes.

Henry’s grin widened at C’s obvious displeasure. T motioned for Henry to followed him. “See ya round, C!” Henry farewelled with a wave.

C didn’t reply. He was too distracted by the sliver of Henry’s abdomen that revealed itself when he lifted his arm.

\---

C found his uniform to be very convenient. He never had much sense of style, so he easily conformed to the black and white attire he had been given been he was recruited. 

Now, however, he despised the Men in Black uniform.

Henry — Agent H, now, because C pleas to T to neurolyze him and throw back into London’s streets went unheard — looked completely different in a suit. No longer was the shabby Henry with his arms proudly showing, Agent H had replaced him. Agent H looked like the kind of gentlemen that C’s mom who have been thrilled to see his sister bring him. Any sign of muscle was hidden behind black fabric, but C knew it was there, as he was still tall and bulky. They must have cut his hair too, because it looked much neater. 

Everything about him was far too neat.

C’s fingers itched to loosen H’s tie, unbutton his shirt, muse his hair, scuff his shoes, stain his—

Okay, maybe that was going a bit far. But C couldn’t help it that his mind kept wandering there. All the Agents of MiB UK had unanimously agreed that H was the most attractive agent ever to grace its humble offices. Sexiest, actually.

C had a hard time disagreeing.

\---

“I’m not your partner,” C said to T. “He is.” He pointed to H, who was watching the argument unfold between his two colleagues.

“It’s a tricky case and you’re good at blending in,” T stated and H fucking grinned.

“A handsome lad like this, T?” H asked, flashing his perfect white teeth. “Surely he could never blend into a crowd.”

C was going to kill him. And it would look like a horrible carbonizer accident.

\---

Change of plans. H was going to live. Well, H would live long enough for C to get off. Because — well, it had been a long night.

A tricky case turned into a very easy case when the suspect showed up at the wrong place at the wrong time — or perfect time, for them. T invited them out for drinks in celebration, which C had been so bemused by that he couldn’t think up an excuse.

They sat in a booth, H and T on one side, C on the other, and downed drinks one after another. H led most of the conversation while T paid for the drinks. C was just… there. Until T left to go to the bathroom and never returned. Only the two _less than friendly_ agents remained.

They tipsily argued a bit, C even trying to get up and leave at one point. H dragged him back down to his seat by his wrist. They stopped arguing after that. They were too drunk for well-thought jabs, so it devolved to childish banter. Or perhaps flirting — and, huh, H’s hand was still on C’s wrist.

H unbuttoned the top few on his shirt, his tie long gone. C couldn’t stop staring. It was as beautiful a sight as he imagined it would be.

Then, well, then they got into a cab together. C isn’t sure why that happened. No, he remembered, H wanted to make sure C _got home safe_. C rolled his eyes. H followed C up to his apartment and— 

There, all caught up. A long night. 

Oh, and they were kissing now.

C was underneath H, on his leather couch, lips locked with his fellow agent. H’s fingers were dutily opening up C’s shirt. H’s pulled away from C’s lips to mouth the newly exposed chest.

C wasn’t drunk enough for _this,_ truly. Neither of them were. The next morning would be awkward as hell and they worked together, for christ’s sake. Drunk enough for stupid arguments, but not enough to hook up with a coworker. Even a slightly hated coworker. Actually, that made this even worse. They really shouldn’t do this, but H clearly hadn’t thought that far ahead and C wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to sleep with the most handsome man on earth. The most insufferable too. He looked past that detail for now.

“It’s nice seeing you relax a bit,” H sighed between kisses to C’s bare skin. His hands were now focused on C’s belt and zipper.

“Shut up,” C groaned. H pulled out C’s cock, which was half-hard and twitching with interest at the feeling of H’s large hands.

“Gladly,” H breathed before shoving C’s dick into his mouth. C’s gasped, banging his head on the couch’s armrest. H was a bit too enthusiastic, immediately pulling off and coughing. “Sorry.”

C didn’t reply. He made a strange gesture that H somehow understood as _continue, please, for fuck’s sake._ C let out a full, low moan when H’s lips wrapped around his head, sucking lightly. The sight before C was remarkable. His own naked chest, wet from H’s earlier conquest, and his pants half-heartedly pulled down with his cock standing straight into H’s mouth. H was somehow more composed, mostly buttoned and zipped up. C would fix that, soon, first he’d enjoy this.

H revelled in each sound he managed to wring from C, humming around C’s cock each time. C tried to keep his eyes open as much as he could, wanting to memorize the view of H’s bobbing head because even through the haze of alcohol and pleasure, he knew this wasn’t going to happen again. 

C wouldn’t let it happen again. It was so unprofessional. If T found out—

It only made the whole thing better. One night of blissful madness with a dickish blond stud who sucked cock surprisingly well, all things considered.

H’s mouth was moving for too languid. C’s reached down to grip his hair, urging him down faster. H met his gaze, blue eyes full of mirth that his mouth was too full to express. He slowed even further.

C groaned his frustration. He allowed his hips to snap up, harsh and deep, into H’s mouth. H glared at him. C shuddered when H’s strong hands pinned down his hips. Everything H did only turned C on even more. 

There was no way he was going into work tomorrow.

Luckily, H gave up his teasing for swift, hot movements that made C grip the couch for dear life. 

“I’m fucking close—” C exclaimed after a mere minute of the change of pace.

H pulled off, hand doing to work his mouth wasn’t willing to do as C came. H’s face was still close enough to get hit with a few drops, while most of it collected C’s stomach and H’s firm fingers.

H always looked good, but he looked even better with C’s come on him.

C wanted to get more come on him. Not his, as he already swatted H’s hand away, overwhelmed by the stimulation. H’s come, he decided.

C sat up, not bothering to clean himself off before urging H to move up toward him. H did so. They locked lips briefly as C’s hand fiddled with H’s belt.

“Can I at least take my shirt off?” H breathily asked as C grasped his cock, pulling out from his briefs and trousers. 

“Hell no,” C replied, coming out as a slight growl. H smirked at it. C would have spared a thought to be embarrassed if H didn’t look so good. C had wanted to do this since he first saw H suit up, wanted to mess up his pristine clothes, wanted to see him moan and shake under C’s hands.

And moan he did. All sorts of nasty things now that his lips weren’t around a cock. C couldn’t help but encourage it with a pleasant twist of his wrist or a kiss to H’s neck.

He shook too, his thighs and hands, as he came all over his shirt and trousers. C felt his blood rushing again somehow, at the sight of H’s twisted face and come all over the both of them.

The black trousers were the best part. The white liquid was so obvious. Not something H could easily hide, either. It was exactly as C imagined it. 

It was a real shame they wouldn’t do this again. If he allowed a next time, he would have requested H keep on the tie and jacket, maybe even wear the glasses. 

This would have to be good enough because there was _not_ going to be a next time.

H frowned, finally regaining his awareness post-orgasm. His gaze was directed down at his trousers. “Damn. I don’t suppose you have pants I could borrow?

“I think those would be less conspicuous than a pair clearly not your size,” C joked just because he could.

H rolled his eyes. “Where’s the bathroom?”

C nodded to the hallway. “First door on the left.”

“Bedroom?”

“Nice try, you’re sleeping on the couch or I’m calling a cab,” C replied, making it clear it this wasn’t up for debate.

“I’ll take the couch, thanks,” H decided before pressing a quick kiss to C’s cheeks and rushing to the bathroom.

C sighed into the silence after H’s slammed the bathroom door.

No, this would never happen again. C would wallow in his reserved misery every time he would be forced to interact with Agent H, his mind always distracted by the mental images of stretched lips and come-stained trousers.

God, he really wasn’t drunk enough for this.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments appreciated!
> 
> Check out my other C/H fic [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19349647) if you haven't already!


End file.
